Chapter 66

A Certain Point of View

Despite the fact that she was his Lord and Master's number one enemy, Barty Crouch Jr. was struggling to understand the obsession that Voldemort had over the girl. He also wasn't entirely sure why Voldemort wouldn't acknowledge that she was a girl. The school itself had, and that was powerful magic. If it hadn't been for his ability to convince Dumbledore, and others, that he was really Moody, Potter wouldn't have been entered into the tournament.

What had bothered Crouch most was that he was glad the girl had survived. He wasn't happy with the idea of the kid being involved in the war. Yes, he understood why Voldemort needed Potter's blood, but Potter was a child. If Voldemort didn't focus on Potter, then by now, he would have taken over the country. But no, Voldemort was showing an inordinate amount of fear – not that he would ever admit to it being fear – over Dumbledore and Potter.

Crouch had decided to study his target fully. Before, during the last war, he did the same whenever he was targeting an enemy. It was why he had been so successful; he studied, and he prepared. He planned his moves very carefully. If it hadn't been for Igor Karkaroff, he wouldn't have been named as being involved in the attack on the Longbottom's. Even then, all he had done was plan and prepare the attack. It had been Bellatrix Lestrange who had committed the actual act, and in front of their little boy.

That had really angered Crouch; the boy was barely over the age of one. Why the hell had Bellatrix insisted that the boy be there? He had spoken to Longbottom during the previous year, and the poor kid hadn't recovered. He didn't remember everything from the actual attack (a small blessing, Crouch felt), but at the same time, he knew what had happened from what he had been told.

He despised Bellatrix Lestrange. Yes, they served the same Master, but Crouch believed in something Bellatrix didn't.

Honour.

That was a simple word with no meaning to Lestrange, but to Barty Crouch Jr, it meant so much. It was why he followed Voldemort. He had no faith in the Ministry at the time, and even now there were corrupt officials everywhere, but he had done some distasteful things in the course of his service to Voldemort.

And yet, despite those actions, he had never before questioned Voldemort or his plans before. Had his years stuck in the house, under his father's spell, changed his way of thinking, or was he merely seeing things he had blinded himself to previously?

That was the real question he needed to answer. He took a sip of his coffee as he looked at the paperwork he had. When he was at Hogwarts disguised as Moody, he had made a lot of notes, not only of the students, but of how Dumbledore acted and reacted. He had been able to fool the man into believing that he was Moody, and it had given him a lot of actionable intelligence.

Already, thanks to his conversations with Remus Lupin, who had been helping to teach the Potter girl, he had been able to help plan an attack on Azkaban which would allow them to ensure the Dementors remained loyal to Voldemort, but also getting out the followers that were there, including, unfortunately, Lestrange.

A part of him wanted to kill the woman, but she was Voldemort's most trusted lieutenant, trusted even more than he was. It didn't bother him too much, but Voldemort had changed a lot since the 'old days' as the worm, Pettigrew, had called it during one of his offhand comments.

The old days? They weren't that long ago, but many had forgotten much of what had happened. Voldemort had been so… different from others. He had the courage of his convictions. He had believed in what he was doing, and had made others believe with his words, and his actions.

The world was ruled by muggles, and yet the muggles fought amongst themselves. There had been two world wars, during which wizards had been forced to hide, to remain hidden, lest they be discovered or destroyed. Some had actually worked with the lunatic called Hitler, but they had been defeated.

So why were things different now? Why did he feel so… confused at what was happening? He hated what was going through his mind, but at the same time, he needed to find answers. As he stood up, he put the paperwork back in the folder, and placed it inside his personal pouch, which only he could access and could contain anything he wanted. He then left his house, needed to find something as a distraction. He just didn't know what that would be.


As he stood alone atop a mountain, Barty Crouch Jr. could see the castle of Hogwarts in the distance. He didn't need to see inside to know that Umbridge was the one running things there, despite Dumbledore's presence. Like Bellatrix, he didn't like Umbridge. She would torture the students and call it punishment.

Barty knew what people thought of him, and mostly, they were right. He was evil, from a certain point of view, but that was the interesting thing; everything depended on a point of view.

Wasn't that the same about life? How many events in life depended on one person's point of view? That was a lesson his mother had tried to teach him, before he had joined Voldemort's army. He hadn't listened, though. He had been so stubborn, but years forced to live under his father's rule had given him a lot of time to think.

He had been forced under the Imperius Curse, but whilst that controlled his body, his mind had always been his own, so he had been able to think and contemplate everything. Yes, he had wanted to enjoy killing his father for the pain he had suffered whilst under the curse.

The worst thing was, when he had killed him, he hadn't felt a thing. He didn't miss his father, but his mother… that was someone he missed, at least partly.

"You seem conflicted," a gentle, female voice said from behind him. Barty turned around and shook his head.

"Okay, so I've gone insane," Barty commented, rolling his eyes as he looked at the spectral form of his mother, who was smiling at him.

"Not insane, my sweet boy, just… misguided," Andrea Crouch spoke, floating there in front of him.

"Right, because my mother, who just happens to be a ghost, decides to use this moment to come and speak to me," Barty scoffed.

"I've always been here, Barty, but you weren't ready to see me," Andrea smiled as she floated over to him, going to cup his cheek with her hand, but not making contact with him. Barty knew she couldn't, being a ghost.

"Really? Why now? What's different between now and the past?" Barty asked, meeting her gentle gaze with a glare.

"You are," Andrea replied. "You are different, and it's because of that year you spent at Hogwarts, teaching."

"Pretending to be Moody," Barty corrected.

"No, you were genuinely teaching the students. That was no lie, you taught many of those students how to survive," Andrea said. "Something I was proud of you for doing. You believe you were simply spying, but you were ensuring those kids had a chance of living through this war."

"Kids shouldn't be used in a war," Barty spoke gruffly, still unsure as to whether or not he was having some kind of breakdown.

"No, they shouldn't. You were led astray by the wrong friends whilst you were still at school, and that broke my heart, but no matter how I tried to help you, I couldn't reach you," Andrea told him.

"What kid actually listens to their parents? You and father told me not to do something, which made me want to do it. Not exactly rocket science, was it?" Barty asked. Andrea actually laughed, which made him remember happier times at home, when his father was at work or doing something else.

"And that right there is a circular argument that all kids have. If I tell you to not do something, you want to rebel and do it. So if I try the opposite and tell you to do something, you act as the good child and obey. Parents have had to deal with that for longer than you could possibly imagine," Andrea explained, floating around him gently, as if taking in the view.

"I guess you're not wrong about that," Barty accepted the premise with a nod. "It makes sense anyway."

"Finally, you learn what I was trying to teach you all those years ago," Andrea said, smiling.

"When did you do what you needed to in order to become a ghost?" Barty asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"When I was pregnant with you," Andrea replied. "Your father never knew; he and I never saw eye to eye on much."

"He was an arrogant ass," Barty commented, rolling his eyes.

"Do you feel better for killing him?" Andrea asked. Barty turned away, prompting her to float around and meet his eyes again. "That's what I thought. He did many things wrong, but he did love you. It's why he did agree to get you out of that terrible place."

"No, he loved you, which was why he did it. He didn't care about me, I was just the reminder that you weren't with us anymore," Barty countered.

"If it's easier for you to believe that, than do so, but he did love you, in his way," Andrea promised. "He was never very good at showing emotions. I understood that about him, and as frustrated as he made me at times, I loved him for it. It was a source of strength, and why he was able to fight the darkness so much. It was why he didn't want to believe you were a Death Eater," Andrea responded, still smiling.

"Sure, that was why," Barty scoffed, rolling his eyes again. Andrea chuckled at the action.

"You are more like him than you ever dare to admit," Andrea explained. "I have always been proud, watching you grow. I know you did bad things, but you aren't evil. Remember those lessons I taught you?"

"About how many of the truth's we believe in depend on our point of view?" Barty asked. Andrea nodded.

"Exactly," she agreed. "I have always known there is good in you, Barty. I could always tell. It was why I did what I did. Everything I did, I did it for you," Andrea said.

"And what makes you so certain of that?" Barty demanded, turning to face her. "I could be evil incarnate."

"No, you couldn't be. There has always been that spark of good, and Lily Potter helped you discover it," Andrea replied. Barty growled as he glared at her.

"Then you don't know me at all! I tried to kill Dumbledore! I would have killed Potter!" Barty exclaimed.

"You had plenty of opportunities to do both, and you did neither," Andrea said. "I know something you will want to know about Lily Potter, and I know you won't tell anyone this."

"Really?" Barty let out a short, harsh laugh at that.

"Whatever you've done, you are my son, the beautiful, sweet boy I raised," Andrea said. "Lily is not like other children. She is very special and is descended from a powerful family line. She has a power that she learnt of after the resurrection of the Dark Lord."

"Okay, you got me curious, what power?" Barty asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Love. Voldemort knows nothing of this, and he can't. He has rejected any and all forms of love in his life. To him, it is a poison, but to Lily, it is her greatest power. She can find the goodness buried deep within a person and bring it out. She doesn't even know she is doing it. That is why your master is so afraid of her. He was the one who made her ability possible," Andrea told him.

"Love? Seriously?" Barty questioned, but deep inside, it did answer a number of questions, including how she had managed to unite all the champions the previous year, how Rita Skeeter had seemed to suddenly change her personality with her writing, and supported the girl, and even why Voldemort was so obsessed with her. He really was terrified of her.

"It makes sense now, doesn't it?" Andrea asked, smiling softly.

"Look, even if I believed you, and I'm not saying I do, what difference does any of this make?" Barty asked.

"More than you realise," Andrea's smile grew wider. "You will find that a choice will be yours in the near future. That choice will change everything, and that's when you'll learn who you really are."

"Mother…" Barty said, as Andrea began to fade. "No, Mother, don't go!"

"I will always be here, my baby. I will always love you," Andrea said, as she faded. Barty watched as she left, then turned back to look at the castle in the distance. Had that just happened? He didn't know, but he had a lot to think about.